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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22741963">No Day Like A Snow Day!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowser_Sourpuss_Bread/pseuds/Bowser_Sourpuss_Bread'>Bowser_Sourpuss_Bread</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales From The Garreg Mach School of Peace: My Three Houses Modern AU [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AKA: the better way to eat Pop Tarts, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Disabled Character, Cold Pop Tarts, Diabetic Edelgard, Disabled Character, Don't you?, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I love 'em!, If you don't know it then it can be distressing, Is great if you know it, Isn't that sad?, Mercedes is the school Mom Friend, Non-Binary Hubert, Sickfic, Sing-alongs, Snow, Snow Day, Snow Days, Spice Girls - Freeform, Taylor Swift - Freeform, The Golden Deer are officially the most put-together house, The secret sign of the Golden Deer, partly anyway, so that's fun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:40:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22741963</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowser_Sourpuss_Bread/pseuds/Bowser_Sourpuss_Bread</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a snow day. All the houses are stuck in their dorms for the day. What will they do?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tales From The Garreg Mach School of Peace: My Three Houses Modern AU [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629751</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>No Day Like A Snow Day!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>One side of the room, emeralds shining with mirth. On the other, pink diamonds sparkling with anticipation. In the center, they meet to see white, like pearls, all around them. Claude von Riegan and Hilda Valentine Goneril look at each other. “Snow day!” they shout simultaneously. They snatch the party poppers from the other’s nightstand and burst out into the Golden Deer common room. “Snow day!” they cry out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leonie Pinelli, Marianne von Edmund, and Ignatz Victor all stare at the duo from the well-loved and well-beaten-up central couch. “Oh… Good morning…” the blue-haired young woman murmurs. “I thought you’d get up earlier, since normally, there would be class today… But the power was out even when I first got up, so I couldn’t use the microwave for the Pop Tarts…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s OK!” Hilda chirps. “I prefer cold Pop Tarts anyway!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve converted her,” her roommate proclaims proudly. “So where are they, Marianne?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um..!” Sweat starts to accumulate on the young woman’s brow. “I didn’t know you would want one too, Claude..!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude drops his party popper. It explodes all over the carpet. Leonie snorts. “I-It wouldn’t have mattered anyway!” Ignatz, somehow always in the middle of all these things, stammers. “Because Raphael ate all of the Pop Tarts Marianne put it the common room!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry!” a familiar voice exclaims. “But I wasn’t sure when you’d be getting up, and I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> hungry..!” Raphael steps out from a room that is not his own, a bundle of blankets draped over his shoulder. Ignatz shifts on the couch to make room. Leonie moves to one of the less desirable armchairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>gave</span>
  </em>
  <span> you food, Raphael,” the bundle of blankets asserts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your portion sizes aren’t enough for me!” the young man laughs. His brow furrows. “And I don’t think they’re enough for you either.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A noncommittal noise from the bundle of blankets, then a head emerges. “What would you two have done if there actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> class today?” Lysithea von Ordelia challenges.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Called in sick,” the duo answer simultaneously. They point at each other. “You owe me a soda!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the house leader and retainer size each other up, Ignatz stands up. “I-I-I’ll get you </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> sodas!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As he scampers off, Raphael draws the bundle of Lysithea close to his chest. The Golden Deer can’t hear the question he asks, but they certainly can hear her answer: “I don’t want food from </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> room!” As his partner in crime sprawls out on the arm of the couch next to Marianne, Claude climbs onto the other arm. Lysithea eyes him critically. “Such children…” Claude eyes her in turn. There is no wheelchair near her; that’s encouraging. Raphael may have carried her in, but now that Claude looks closer, the sharp edges of her shape inside the mound of blankets confirms that she has her braces and crutches at the ready. But her shape remains far too small within it, and there’s a subtle shaking… “You can just </span>
  <em>
    <span>ask</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” the youngest member of the Golden Deer exclaims. “Without the power, I’m just </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Claude catches Hilda’s look to Raphael. Raphael nods in confirmation. Of course, it’s more than just not having power. It’s that Lysithea can never seem to gain back the weight she loses in illness before the next one strikes, but for the moment, she’s not sick. But that’s not something that needs to be said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, now that you guys are finally up, we can start!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Claude asks. “What’re we doin’?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No idea!” Raphael happily exclaims.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you’re as behind on your schoolwork as the chatter in here suggests-” Lysithea pipes up. “-maybe we should </span>
  <em>
    <span>continue studying</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ignatz comes back with two protein bars and two sodas. He passes the first soda to Hilda. From across the couch, Claude stretches out his hands. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Lysithea orders. Claude sticks his tongue out at her. “Just for </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I won’t help you. Ignatz?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ignatz hands the soda to the future leader of Leicester. “I’m not as good as Lysithea, but-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Confidence!” Lysithea barks. Raphael woops. Ignatz flushes, hastily putting the protein bars in front of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude swoops in to save his friend from the embarrassment. “Some other time. Nothing gets the brain going like a good cramming for the test.” He gives a charming wink. “Hey. Where’s Mayo?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“By the window,” Leonie huffs. “Being </span>
  <em>
    <span>melancholic</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am not being as </span>
  <em>
    <span>melodramatic</span>
  </em>
  <span> as you claim, Leonie!” Claude gives a signal to Hilda, who starts polling the Golden Deer for what card or board games they want to play. Then, he joins Lorenz Hellman Gloucester by the window. It truly is the best window in the Golden Deer dorms to be melancholic.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Missing Ferdie?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am desiring </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ferdinand von Aegir’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> company, yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m sure he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>desiring</span>
  </em>
  <span> your </span>
  <em>
    <span>company</span>
  </em>
  <span> too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lorenz looks at him hopefully. “Do you really think so?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude doesn’t really know Lorenz’s partner, but… “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> so.” He casts a quick glance at the rapidly-unfolding chaos behind him. It’s the Golden Deer way. “I’m hearing… Pictionary.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lorenz tries to hide a glance of his own. “What team is Ignatz on? Artists are never good at Pictionary. They take too long.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Claude smiles. “Better claim a spot sooner rather than later.” As Lorenz stands up, though, Claude taps him on the shoulder. At the other’s narrowed eyes, Claude explains. “Real quick,” he assures him. “But is that window from the Blue Lions or the Black Eagles? I can’t see very well through all the snow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The Blue Lions,” Lorenz answers. “I’ve seen Dimitri and Dedue.” Claude looks closely. He can see Dimitri right now! He flashes the secret sign of the Golden Deer before scampering away to steal a spot on one of the seats from Lorenz.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Slam your body down and zigazig ah</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If you wanna be my lover</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ferdinand von Aegir clears his throat as Dorothea Arnault applauses. “Your turn, Ferdie!” Ferdinand gets a drink of water from the bottle he took from his room. One of many. He looks at his watch. They’ve been singing for two hours. He feels so </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>! He goes through his mental catalog of songs. He knows he and Dorothea have very similar mental catalogs of songs, but he wants to check that Dorothea knows the lyrics to Taylor Swift’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shake It Off</span>
  </em>
  <span> well enough to sing without YouTube backing her up. They were a bit overzealous with using YouTube for the first half of their singing game, and no one knows when the power is going to come back!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That is when doors on the opposite sides of the dorm hall slam open. The two voices bleed into one, but their message is clear: Shut up! Their friends are trying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>sleep</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dorothea addresses Caspar von Bergliez first. “Lin has literally been diagnosed with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>condition</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Our singing will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> wake him up, don’t you worry.” As for Hubert von Vestra: “Is Edie feeling better?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The retainer blows an errant, greasy lock away from their eye. “Slightly,” they huff, and they slam the door back shut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They nearly fall back out the door when they register the pair of lilac eyes staring at them. “My Lady!” they exclaim, hurrying to her bedside. “I tried to do it the way you recommended, but it is clear now that I will need to execute the next step…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t threaten them,” Edelgard von Hresvelg mumbles, slurring half from sleep and half from her actual illness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your wish is my command, My Lady.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hubert starts busying themself with preparing a suitable breakfast using what they had purchased in preparation for the blizzard, calculating her recent blood sugar levels and sensitivity from the sickness, when she speaks up again. “Don’t make them stop.” Hubert pauses. Considers. Decides that it would be best to ignore it. See if it passes. It doesn’t. “Did they stop?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” they answer as they present the meal on the foldable bedtray. Best not to elaborate at the moment. That will only elicit more questions from her fever-addled mind…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” There. There are the questions. Hubert hates this. Her being ill, of course, but also… They’re glad that they tend to be silent when ill. They would hate to burden Edelgard with the poor choices </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> fever-addled mind would conjure…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because you are ill. You need to rest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been resting for four days.” Hubert looks. There is more clarity in her eyes than yesterday. Perhaps she is on an upwards trend. But that laugh… That laugh does not bode well. “What if </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> sang?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They tell the truth. “I would sing poorly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The normal amount of intensity in the future leader of Adrestia’s eyes is shot to dangerous levels by the brightness from the fever. “I want to see it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah. There it is. The poor decision. Conjured from your fever-addled mind.” She stares at them. Waits. Because she knows that they are always entranced by that mind of hers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They shuffle out of their room. “Lady Edelgard is coming into the common room!” they announce. They shuffle back in. They loop their arms under Edelgard’s. She isn’t completely dead weight, but she is clumsy, and they have never been particularly strong…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Petra Macneary stands at the threshold of the door. “Hubert is too weak to be carrying helpless!” She scoops their lady into her arms as if she weighed </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hubert checks under their arms. They weren’t sweating </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> much, were they? Their nose crinkles. When was the last time they showered? If Lady Edelgard fell ill four days ago…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Curse the power being out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They nearly curse out loud when Ferdinand grabs them by the arm. “Hubert! I’m so glad you could join us! We’ve been saving our phone batteries, but I assume you want YouTube to accompany you, yes? Do you want the official music video? Do you want a lyric video? Do you want a video that shows the dances?...” What Hubert </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> is to </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> being performing, but alas… They look at Edelgard, slumped in the- Black-Eagles-voted-least-comfortable-chair-in-the-building. Disgraceful. She is ill. She should be in the-Black-Eagles-voted-most-comfortable-couch-in-the-building. If they are concerned about contamination, they will clean it after she recovers. If they are </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> concerned, Edelgard will purchase a new couch. She sees them looking. She smiles. She is happy to be among the Black Eagles again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hubert jolts as Caspar’s voice rings out from his room. “Linhardt! Wake up! Hubert’s gonna sing Dorothea and Ferdie’s pop songs!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be awake for this…” Linhardt von Hevring asserts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Happy place. Happy place. If singing will make Lady Edelgard happy, then they will sing. They look to her for confirmation. She nods. They will discuss what they will do about that in the privacy of their room, after this…</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd has not slept. He thought to sleep, but then it started snowing, and he was struck by nature’s power, and then the snow started making </span>
  <em>
    <span>noise</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and he was reminded of human cruelty… So the prince did not sleep. He has been sitting by the window. The ghosts are outside. They can not get in. He rubs at his eye. He will not let them get in. Not today.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He goes rigid as he hears a chair scrape against the floor. “My apologies, Your Highness.” He looks. Dedue Molinaro is now sitting next to him. “Forgive me?” Three precious faces peek out from within his retainer’s outstretched palms. Dimitri hums to his rats. The five of them look out the window for a long time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri sees snow. Dimitri sees blood. Dimitri sees fire. Dimitri sees… Lorenz? “Is that Lorenz?” he asks. Because he can not trust his eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is,” Dedue confirms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They keep looking out the window. Eventually, Dimitri thinks to ask, “What is he doing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do not know,” Dedue answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri’s mind races. Snow. Blood. Fire. “Do you think something is wrong? In the Golden Deer house?” He stands up. “Do you think it is an emergency!?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If there were an emergency, do you think Lorenz would just be staring out the window?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know..!” he gasps. Claude joins Lorenz at the window. Claude makes a mysterious gesture. Is it a distress signal!? Are the Golden Deer in danger? Is the school under attack?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If there is an emergency, we will drop everything to help.” He’s been held together by Dedue, but Mercedes von Martritz is the one drawing him away from the cold-sticky-heat and towards the safe-concerned-warmth. “But for now, Ashe and Annette have helped me make some food. Would you like some, Dimitri?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” Mercedes starts walking away. “Thank you!” he adds. “And…” He looks. Annette Fantine Dominic and Ashe Gaspard are handing out plates of food to Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius, and Ingrid Brandl Galatea. Sylvain has a plate full of sweets. Felix and Ingrid, at least, appear to have chosen a balanced selection. They are gathering in… a pile of blankets. “What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Making a fort!” Annette cries.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come join us, Your Highness!” Ashe offers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pained squeal. Dimitri’s legs are carrying him. He rips the blanket Annette is trapped under. She rubs the back of her head. “I hit my head on the chair I was trying to adjust…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Way to go, Boar,” Felix says. “That blanket isn’t yours to tear up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. It’s not,” Ingrid exclaims. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She looks at him. “It’s all right, Your Highness. I have plenty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri feels like he wants to take all those blankets and burrow into them with Felicity and Hope and Determination and never come out again. What kind of conduct is this for the future leader of Faerghus?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ignore them, Your Highness,” Sylvain says. “Wanna start us off?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dimitri finds his eye sliding towards Dedue. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Start off what?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The man of Duscur shrugs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any ghost stories?” Mercedes asks, sliding up next to him. At the mention of ghost stories, Annette and Ashe scooch close to each other, holding each other’s hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re supposed to go </span>
  <em>
    <span>under</span>
  </em>
  <span> the blankets!” Felix yells, but everyone ignores him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes, but not any you want to know. About how the dead try to drag you under. About how hatred kills. About how the world can fall apart in a day.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I do. Dedue has told me about some interesting ghost stories from Duscur.” He sits next to the half-destroyed blanket fort, not trusting himself not to finish what Annette started.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His Blue Lions gather around him. His rats dart onto the ruins of the blanket fort. They clean up the crumbs.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gay-Rick Mac</span>
  </em>
  <span>:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Momcedes: Do you need anything else, @Black Eagles? Get well soon!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hubert looks up from their computer. Edelgard nods, then she returns to her work. Her illness put her behind. As for the Black Eagles’ illness, they will recover shortly. No long-term effects. Except doubting the reality of that snow day. They didn’t need to do much. The memory seems fake enough that they hardly believe it themself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Across the hall, Bernadetta von Varley is the only Black Eagle who remembers Hubert’s rendition of Taylor Swift’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shake It Off</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She is terribly aware of the danger of that memory, but she stows it away, to be incorporated in a fanfiction she’s writing...</span>
</p>
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